


Risk and Relaxation

by cadkitten



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Cuddling & Snuggling, Kissing, M/M, Marijuana, Morning After, Oral Fixation, Oral Sex, Relaxation, Selfies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-15
Updated: 2016-11-15
Packaged: 2018-08-31 06:17:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8567164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cadkitten/pseuds/cadkitten
Summary: Tim takes one day a year to relax. A concert, a night of drinking and partaking in the medication he should be using a lot more regularly and it yields some interesting results when he decides to send a risky selfie to Damian.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Been saying I'd do this since I ran across [this picture set](http://asianpits.tumblr.com/post/152409344179/allhapa-when-you-stoned-and-horny-af-follow).  
> Beta Readers: kate1zena  
> Song[s]: "Turn It Up" by G-Dragon / "Phenomenon" by Dir en grey / "Pillowtalk" by Zayn

Tim slipped through the crowds of people, squinting against the bright flashes of light from the stage at the front of the venue. It was rare that he did this; it was rare that he even had a day to himself, but once every year he made a point to ensure he had some _him_ time. It was one thing to remember for the rest of the year.

The lights dimmed and the crowd cheered, screams raising from a few of the more verbal fans. Tim stopped his path toward the sidelines and turned to watch the band file on stage, giving fist-pumps and clapping, depending on the band member. He smirked as the vocalist swaggered on stage, commanding the audience with a double-lift of his hand, raising them up to a fresh fever-pitch. Cupping his hands around his mouth, Tim let loose a yell of his own. The first song began and Tim launched himself into it like he was _starved_ for this.

Two hours later, Tim stumbled free of the pit, more exhausted than if he'd been beaten to a pulp by one of the idiots this city had to offer. He was drenched in sweat, his shirt dark with his and everyone else's fluids; he would have thought of himself as stinking if it hadn't been for everyone else that stank just the same. He clutched the pick he'd caught in his palm, pushed it into his pocket and followed the flow of the crowd as they spilled out onto the street.

Cold air hit him like a slap in the face and he sucked in a breath, shivering. His gaze landed on the bar across the street and he grinned, pausing on the sidewalk to check the street before darting across and ducking into the establishment. He settled at the bar, pushing his license and card onto the black countertop and pointing at the top-shelf whiskey, holding up three fingers. 

The bartender glanced at his license and took his card, pulling down the bottle and settling a glass in front of him, pouring out three fingers worth and placing a bottle of water next to it. "Good show?"

"Best. Always is!" Tim picked up the whiskey and drained the glass, thumping the glass back down on the counter, flashing three fingers again.

She poured and then meandered off toward another new customer, leaving Tim to actually sip at this one, his gaze caught on the mirrors behind the bar, just watching the world turn behind him for the time being. 

Minutes turned toward an hour and then hedged on towards two before Tim headed to the bathroom. His steps dragged, but he didn't stumble. His head swam, but he knew his limits and this wasn't it just yet. His entire body was on fire, humming with the after-effects of the show and the alcohol in his system. Stepping up to one of the urinals, he unzipped and leaned forward to look at his reflection in the mirrored wall as he started to piss. His hair was in disarray and his shirt was still damp, but not so horribly as it had been a few hours ago. His right side hurt and when he raked his shirt up to look, there was a bruise blossoming just under his ribs; no doubt from how he'd flung himself into the group of moshers early on in the show. 

His gaze slipped from the mirror down to himself, across abs he'd shamelessly built because he adored the way they looked and down to the barest peek of his closely trimmed hair from the top of his jeans and _further_ , watching as the last few golden drops left his body. Swiping one finger over the tip, he got up the last of it, studied the dampness on his fingertip even as he used the other fingers to help him tuck in and zip up.

Stepping away from the urinal, the auto censor flushed and he moved to the sinks, leaning over and doing a good job of washing his hands before he readjusted his clothing and maneuvered his way around the few lingering people in the restroom, stepping out into the hallway. He shuffled around even more people, sidestepping a few and narrowly missing someone darting for the bathrooms before he pushed out into the night air and up to the waiting taxi at the curb. He slid into the vehicle and gave the address to the apartments across the street from him.

Settling back against the seat, he pulled his phone from his pocket, thumbing in the code and starting to flip through one of the various social media apps he had, getting himself up to date on what was happening in the city tonight before he made a final choice for the evening. The usual brand of idiocy was rife and there had been a bank robbery it looked like Nightwing had taken care of right on the edge of Gotham and Blüdhaven. A few more random incidents, all of them involving low level scum and Tim smiled to himself. The city would live another night with him taking it off.

They arrived at the address given and he paid, stepping out and mixing with the shadows of the street before making his way down the block, then across and back up to his building. Fifteen stories up, and down the hall before he was finally inside his own home, the door locked up and alarms all set before he ditched his shoes and worked his way through the house, leaving a trail of clothing behind him. 

Settling on the couch, Tim pulled open the drawer of his coffee table and plucked out the small candy dish from inside it, opening it and setting two of the suckers on the table. He carefully put the dish back in the drawer and closed it all up, unwrapping one sucker popping it into his mouth. 

Twenty minutes later, he tossed the stick in the trash and picked up the other one, taking it with him towards the bathroom. The entire world had a gentle sort of roll to it now, an ease that it normally didn't have for him. He stepped into the bathroom and turned on the overhead light and glanced down at the sucker in his hand, carefully rubbing his thumb over the little green plant leaf on the wrapper. 

He'd had a prescription for a few years now, but with his line of work, he honestly never found a good time to employ the benefits of the medicinal marijuana he'd been put on. The pain, the anxiety, all of it sort of ebbed away when he _did_ find the right moments. What it tended to leave behind was a version of himself that was more truthful to who he really was than anything else was: some perverse blend of Red Robin, Timothy Drake-Wayne, and this _other_ guy that he so rarely shared with anyone. 

Picking up the hat he'd left in the bathroom from his morning run, he settled in on his head backwards, huffing out an amused little laugh at the image he presented: shirtless, his hair a mess, his features mellowed out by both the drug in his system and the array of alcohols he'd consumed over the evening. His black boxer shorts hung low on his hips, low enough he could reach down and trail his thumb over the prominent vein across the expanse between groin and hip, low enough it left _little_ to the imagination.

He reached to push one hand against the linen closet, leaning forward as he studied himself in the mirror, hopeless arousal blossoming within him. His hips rolled and he released a quiet little moan as he palmed himself through the fabric of his boxers.

Shifting away from the closet door, he grabbed the sucker off the counter, unwrapping it and popping it in his mouth. A few steps brought him back to where he'd dropped his pants and he fished out his phone, taking it with him back into the bathroom. A little smirk came over his features as he unlocked it and swiped over to the camera app and then held up the phone. Reaching back, he held the back of his baseball cap, shifted until he was satisfied with the angle and just how damn _good_ he looked right then, and snapped a picture. 

A bit of shuffling and he tugged his boxers down just a bit more, right to the top of the swell of his cock, where he was just barely starting to get hard. His hand splayed out over his abdomen and he snapped another photo.

Tilting his head back, he lifted the phone up a bit more, positioned the picture and then slid his hand into his boxers, cupped his rapidly hardening length in his hand and tugged down to reveal just a bit more, to actually _show_ the base of his cock in the photo, but not anything more than that. He snapped the picture and stepped forward, settling his phone on the counter as he wrapped his hand around himself, starting to stroke as he did a few quick crop-jobs on the photos and changed the lighting a bit on the middle one. 

His phone vibrated and a text notification from Damian popped up. He tapped on it - hand still moving quickly over his length - and read the quick message telling him how his "room" was cleaned for him, meaning Bruce had assigned Damian to his area of the city for the night. 

Things had been so trusting ever since Damian had taken on the Teen Titans a few years back and now that he was rapidly heading out of the zone of being a _teen_ and just a singular step away from not being, Bruce had all but taken off the short leash he'd kept him on for so many years. 

Leaning over the counter even more, Tim stroked faster for a moment, his hips working with his hand until he groaned, stopping simply because he was already so close. Letting go of himself, he picked up his phone and tapped out a reply thanking him and sent it off. Turning, he settled back against the counter, his hand wandering over his abdomen and up to a nipple, lightly rolling it between his fingers before releasing it and moving on. 

His tongue idly turned the sucker in his mouth, the clack of the candy against his teeth loud in the otherwise mostly silent room. He clucked his tongue a few times and then tilted his head back, letting his hand wander back down to his cock, sliding over the firm length of it and then back down, easing beyond to cup his sac for a moment. He gave a light squeeze and his eyelids fluttered closed.

Images instantly sprang up behind them. 

_Jason's palms brushing over his abdomen, up over his bruised side with such care-_

_Dick kissing him, his tongue trying to get some of the sweetness from the sucker as his own, his hands resting against Tim's pecks-_

_Bruce's hands bruising on his hips, the brush of his length against Tim's ass-_

_Damian kneeling in front of him, his head bobbing as he took Tim's length into his mouth, again and again-_

Tim snapped out of it, panting from how quick he was jacking himself off. The last image lingered and he bit his lip as he stared down at Damian's name on his screen, at the professional portrait that graced his display picture and _just_ how tight that black shirt was on him. 

Tim whined as he turned back towards the counter, leaned on it as his fingers slid down to investigate his thigh, pressing and soothing an ache there before moving back up to brush through the short hair at the base of his cock, fingers splitting on either side of his cock, framing it between his long digits so he could stare at it for a moment. It twitched hard and he shuddered, ghosts of Damian on his knees still in his mind. 

It wasn't completely ridiculous. They were only a few years apart and Tim was almost certain Damian was at least a _little_ bi-curious given some of the sidelong glances he'd caught him taking over the years toward some fairly attractive people. 

Tim clicked on the little camera icon and selected the first photo, hitting send before he could change his mind. He watched the little green bar telling him the photo was sending. It disappeared and he let his hand wrap around his cock again, stroking eagerly as he thumbed out a message. 

_A little extra as thanks maybe._

His phone lit up once that message sent with _Ha_ and he squeezed himself a bit harshly, biting back the groan that wanted free as he let go and plucked his phone off the counter again. 

_Hate me yet?_

It was a few seconds before he got a reply but when he did, it felt like a weight being lifted from his soul. _It has been a very long time since I have hated you._

Breath sticking in his throat, he selected the camera again and tapped the third picture, once more sending it before he could completely stop himself. His breath stuck as he watched it send, his hand grasping his cock again and moving quickly, eagerly. The thought flitted through his mind that he was getting off on sending what amounted to _risky_ pictures of himself to _Damian_ of all people, and he clung to it, closing his eyes and letting himself imagine a scenario that garnered Damian on his knees right here in this very bathroom. His hips canted and he put the phone down, clutching at the counter as he jerked off faster than he'd let himself so far.

Arousal rolled through him and then everything went white-hot as his orgasm hit him full-on. He could feel every single throb of his cock as if he weren't quite on the same level of existence as it was, could feel the way his body worked his muscles in order to provide him with this amazing sensation. He rocked his hips against his hand, pushing his cock through the tight hold of his fist again and again until he was empty.

Hunching over the counter, he shuddered and cracked his eyes open, daring to look at the screen once more. 

_Go to sleep, Drake._

He huffed out a breath of a laugh, carefully thumbing out, _Soon. Thanks again._

Even as he cleaned up the counter and the floor and meandered his way into the shower, Tim could feel the delicate buzz of what he'd done working along his system. Even as the world slowly began to matter less and less, he could only smile to himself beneath the onslaught of water and the rise of steam around him. Tonight was a _good_ night.

\-----

Tim sat on the edge of his bed, hunched over and running his fingers through his hair. He bit back a yawn and swallowed against the cotton taste in his mouth that told him he needed more water than he'd put in last night. It wasn't surprising given the concert and then the rest of his night. 

Pushing himself up, he made his way to the bathroom, finally letting the yawn out and rubbing the water from his eyes that came as a result. Stopping at the sink, he half-filled his plastic cup and then moved to the toilet, going about his morning business as he downed the cup of water. Settling the cup on the counter, he finished up and flushed, moving to wash his hands and then his face.

Shuffling around the room, he dragged himself through an attempt to shave, brushing his teeth, taking his allergy medication and then filled the cup again, drinking it as he went back to the bedroom. Holding the cup between his teeth, he tugged on a pair of deep gray cotton sleep pants and a black tank top before padding back through the house toward the kitchen.

He settled a mug onto the tray at the base of his Keurig and slotted a French Vanilla cup into the holster. Pushing the button, it dispensed his coffee and Tim pulled it free of the holder, trading his now-empty water cup for the coffee mug. He tossed the K-cup in the trash and popped open the pantry to stare vacantly into it, trying to decide what he needed to put into himself for breakfast.

The rap of knuckles against his front door drew his attention, his head cocking slightly in some amount of deliberation as to who could possibly want him this early in the morning. He shifted his coffee cup to one hand, readied it as a makeshift weapon out of habit more than anything, and avoided walking right in front of the door, skirting to the side and then taking a quick glance at the hidden camera's video feed.

Damian stood on the other side of the door, holding a white paper bag, and Tim gave the door a decidedly confused look before he shifted his coffee cup back to a more normal sort of hold, turning off his alarm and unlatching the door. He opened it and stepped back, nodding his head toward inside. "Come on in."

Damian stepped inside and lingered as Tim latched the door back up, hit the alarm out of habit, and headed back toward the kitchen. "Was just trying to decide what to eat for breakfast... want something or did you already eat?"

Tim could hear Damian rustling around in the bag he'd brought and he sighed, turning when Damian didn't answer him to see Damian extracting a Styrofoam container from the bag. He placed it on the island in front of one of the stools and slid onto the one opposite of it. Their eyes met for a moment and Damian gave the box a pointed look. "Thought you might want this after last night."

Tim pursed his lips, running his tongue along his teeth before moving to put his cup down. "Want some coffee? I have the kind you liked when I left it with Alfred."

"That would be acceptable."

Nothing in the world could have stopped the huff of a laugh Tim let out as he turned away. "Right-o." Tim pulled down another mug, settling it in the holder and popping in the slightly spiced K-cup and closing the lid, giving it a moment and then pushing the button, watching it drizzle out the liquid into the cup. "Milk? Creamer? Sugar?"

"Black." The creak of Styrofoam came to Tim's ears as Damian opened his own box and the scent of hash browns filled the room. 

He extracted the mug and tossed the cup, bringing the mug back and pushing it across the island to Damian before taking his seat. He picked up his plastic fork and popped open his own container, almost moaning at the sight of a perfectly golden waffle, omelet with only cheese and a garnish of green onions on the side. He plucked up the plastic knife and set into cutting it. "You are a saving grace."

Damian remained silent and Tim dug into his food. He was halfway through it before he really noticed the way Damian kept glancing at him, before he _felt_ how long the glances kept lingering on him. He waited until he was sure he wasn't fabricating it, wasn't just taking Damian's randomly landing glances to be more than just random before he let himself look up, meeting his gaze and holding it. He kept quiet as they stared at one another, finally opening his mouth to speak, but holding his tongue as Damian finally spoke up.

"How much alcohol did you have last night?"

Tim blinked at him, putting his fork down and settling on his coffee for a moment, taking a few swallows before he shrugged and rested his forearms on the counter. "Let's go with a nebulous answer of _a lot_ , why?"

There was a flash of something in Damian's eyes and then he was polishing off a piece of toast, pointedly looking at the counter instead of Tim. 

Tim let it slide, knowing Damian's silences tended to have more to say than his words did at times. He carefully picked over the events from last night in his mind, thinking on leaving the bar and then the vague flashes of him arriving home, of being on his couch and getting a few of his prescribed suckers. He popped another bite of waffle into his mouth and chewed thoughtfully. The slightest image of the bathroom, of a really nice shower, of... _something_. 

He pushed his last bite of omelet into his mouth and squinted at the counter. His body understood he'd gotten off last night, though he had little recollection of actually having done so. It was in the vague category of _happened_ and there was definitely a bit of time missing there and a bit missing as to how he ended up in bed from the shower, but it wasn't anything significant in time period to worry about. No hints of a person having been here besides him so nothing to worry about there, but... _something_ nagged at him. 

The thought of how Damian had known he had been drunk last night nagged at him and he finally put his fork down again, settling on holding the mug between his hands. "I drunk texted you, didn't I?"

Damian made a small noise from the back of his throat, picking up his mug and draining the contents. "Entirely possible." He stood, picking up his trash and dumping it into Tim's garbage. "You seem to have made it through intact."

Tim blinked a bit dumbly at Damian for a moment, trying to track his diversion and finally grasped what he meant. "Yeah, no hangovers for me. Just gotta drink enough water, that's all."

"I see." Damian smoothed his hands over his hooded sweatshirt, hands disappearing into the pocket. "I must get the car back."

Tim stared at him, a slightly dread-like feeling churning in his gut at the instant coldness Damian was pushing toward him; so very different from moments before. His mind finally offered up an image of his phone, of watching a very _risky_ sort of image send to _Damian_. The spark of warmth in his body informed him what he'd been _doing_ when he'd sent it and his eyes widened as he stared at him. 

That same little spark of something showed up in Damian's eyes for an instant before he clenched his jaw and turned away. "Do _not_." An instant had him heading for the door and Tim had to nearly launch himself out of his chair, his brain fighting between telling Damian he needed to turn off the alarm and begging him to tell him how he'd _felt_ about what he'd gotten last night. 

But the fact that Damian was _here_ told everything about that. His silence and the fact that he was slightly hunched as he headed toward the door told Tim _everything_. There had been _hope_ in his arrival here. 

Tim's breath caught as he threw himself at the door, blocking Damian from so much as trying to open it. Back to it, he reached out and let himself _not_ think for a single instant in his life. His hand caught in the front of Damian's hoodie and he yanked, crashing Damian right up against him, forcing him to free his hands to keep himself from slamming too harshly into Tim. He gave it half a second for Damian to _reject_ this, watched the crystal clear _wonder_ blossom behind Damian's eyes and Tim closed the distance between them. The warmth of Damian's lips against his own was welcoming, like coming home, and Tim didn't stop himself from slicking his tongue out along Damian's lower lip, tasting him.

When they parted, Damian didn't go far, not even a step back, only bowed his head and gave it a slow shake. "You didn't really remember what-"

Tim pressed his thumb against Damian's lips, marveled at the way Damian parted for him, at the swipe of his tongue that he seemed unable to actually prevent himself from doing. "I just had to _remember_ , that's all." Taking a chance, he pushed his thumb lightly against Damian's lips, watched as he let him push inside, let him rub the pad of his thumb over his tongue, at the way his mouth closed around him and _sucked_.

The fantasy hit him like a slap in the face and he didn't stop the groan that bubbled up. "Imagined you... last night."

Damian let go of his thumb, his hands finally moving from the door to Tim's hips, his grip just as harsh as the one Tim had imagined Bruce giving him last night, that image quickly changing to Damian in his mind's eye. "Tell me."

Tim sucked in a breath through his teeth and let his head roll back against the door. "Sucking me off."

The quick jerk of Damian's body against his own left him gasping and the splay of Damian's hands over his hips sent his body into a shiver. There were no more words, only Damian's exploration of the swell and dip of his hips. Only the way Damian's fingertips slid under his clothing, lightly raking over his abs and then _down_ , thumb tracing the vein on his hip like he'd spent the night memorizing it.

Damian slowly sank into a crouch and Tim _whined_ , completely without his own permission. Jade green eyes stared him down for a moment before Damian's attention was redirected once again, his fingers curling in the waistband of Tim's sleep pants, dragging them down to _just_ the same place he'd had his boxers at last night and then his _mouth_ was there, teasing warm and wet along that very same vein. 

His lips ghosted over his abdomen and then lower and Tim imagined how it must feel for Damian to have his lips pressed here. His tongue darted out, swiping over the faintly exposed part of Tim's cock and Tim had his hand in Damian's hair instantly, his back arching against the door until Damian's hands took control, pushing his hips back against the door as his tongue played over the very base of his cock again. 

Tim's head thumped against the door and he moaned out some broken version of Damian's name, squeezing his eyes closed and listening to his own breath panting out. The material of his pants slipped lower and suddenly he was _in_ Damian's mouth and his cock was swelling against his tongue. His fist clenched in Damian's hair, his other hand dragging up over his own body, raking past a nipple and up over his neck and across his jaw until he shoved two fingers into his mouth and _sucked_.

Damian moved slowly over his length, tongue exploring everything he was given, driving Tim higher with every passing second.

Tim's hand released from Damian's hair to lift to his own, tugging as he struggled to formulate some necessary train of thought. A shudder worked its way through him and suddenly he was talking, his voice sounding blissed-out even to his own ears. "So _happy_ I sent you that. You... you're... _Damian_ ," he whined and Damian pulled up off of him for a moment, that particular _something_ dancing in his eyes again. 

"Yes, I am."

Tim didn't even have time to sputter over the _joke_ \- from Damian of all people and during _sex_ \- before Damian was taking him back in, sliding down his length and oh-so-carefully back up to suck on the head. His tongue flickered over the slit and Tim _knew_ that taste, knew just how it would be tinged with the night before, knew how it would have changed his own particular tang and he didn't bother to stop the words. "Usually taste _different_."

There was a huff of breath from Damian that Tim took to be part of a laugh and he reached back down, hand cupping the back of Damian's head, holding him still for a moment as he gave a very experimental little roll of his hips. Damian's hands tightened on his hips and he shifted just enough that Tim could finally see how this was affecting _him_ \- the tight press of his cock against his jeans. Tim rocked his hips again, watching his own length disappear into Damian's mouth. "You're _hard_."

Damian pulled back and licked over the head of Tim's cock before pushing himself up, his hands capturing Tim, one hand pressed to his cheek, one to his jaw as they shared the sweetest of kisses. It was gentle and tender and _pure_ and then Damian's tongue was there, sharing Tim's own essence with him. 

Tim received a little nip to his lower lip and Damian pulled away enough to study him, eyes bright and the faintest flush on his cheeks. "Did you think I would not be?"

The shudder that wracked Tim's body had everything to do with the tone of Damian's voice, the way it held _sex_ at the forefront of it and Tim recalled seeing Bruce turn on _that_ voice over a woman he'd looked genuinely interested in. The memory was vague, a long-gone time where some part of Bruce had still been reckless and Tim reveled in knowing _this_ was Damian being reckless. "Do I get to return the favor?"

Damian's quiet hum came pressed against Tim's lips, the taste of his own precum slicking over his tongue again before they parted, though only by the barest breadth this time. "I would prefer _more_."

Tim didn't stop the moan, didn't stop the way he threw back his head and let his breath gasp out as he jerked his hips against Damian. " _Anything_."

"You would give me the world, wouldn't you?" Damian's voice was hot against his ear as he reached back to squeeze Tim's ass, fingers tightening roughly against him. 

"Yes, God yes, I would." Tim closed his eyes, just rocking against the feeling of Damian's fingers digging in against him, squeezing and parting. 

"Tell me how _much_ you need me," his mouth brushed Tim's again and then, " _to fuck you_."

Tim didn't bother to police the cry that left his lips, didn't stop the way his hips rocked frantically against Damian at those words. 

Damian crushed him against his own body, teeth grazing over his jaw as he chuckled. "You speak with your body."

Tim's hands landed on his shoulders, blunt nails digging in against the hoodie as he struggled to find some way to put himself against Damian's cock how he wanted to be.

"Shh," Damian pressed his lips against where he'd let his teeth travel and then stepped back from Tim, turning to walk away, holding his hand out for Tim to take. Their fingers curled around one another, lacing as Damian guided Tim toward his own bedroom. Once inside he released him, kicking the door most of the way closed and unzipping his hoodie, letting it fall to the chair beside Tim's desk. Shoes and socks followed as Tim struggled out of his tank top and shoved his pants the rest of the way off from where they'd barely been clinging to him this whole time. 

Shuffling back onto the bed, Tim fished around under his pillow and pulled out the small pouch that contained his lube and a half dozen condoms.

Damian knelt on the bed, leaning in and capturing Tim's lips again as he unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans, only pushing them slightly down his hips before grasping Tim's hand and guiding it down to him. 

Tim took the weight of Damian's cock in his palm, wrapped his fingers around him and began to stroke, earning a ragged sort of moan against his mouth as Damian settled between his thighs. Tim heard the zipper on the bag and then the shuffle of items even as Damian's tongue delved into his mouth, tasting more of Damian than of Tim's own essence now and his own cock gave a hard throb at the idea of knowing what Damian tasted like.

Damian's teeth caught Tim's lip again, tugged and then released as he slipped two slick digits into Tim's body.

Tim gasped, Damian's tongue soothing over his lip, his own sliding alongside Damian's. He could only imagine the display, imagine how _lewd_ it was and he groaned from that fact alone, his hips rocking slightly, helping Damian finger him, helping him _prepare_ him so that he could _fuck_ him.

The thought sent a forcible gasp from his lips and he clenched around Damian's fingers, hips moving more frantically until Damian pulled his fingers free, breaking the vulgar dance of their tongues to whisper, "Not yet. Do not _cum_ for me just _yet_."

The whine that came out was unstoppable and Tim rolled his hips against the air between them, his hand squeezing hard on Damian's cock before he started stroking him again, movements quick and sharp. The tear of foil urged his fingers to unwrap themselves and he let his fingers dance over Damian's hands as he sheathed himself and slicked himself with lube. 

Damian's hand grasped Tim's, guided it down to hold the base of Damian's cock as he positioned himself and slowly began to push against Tim until his body opened up for him, letting Damian sink into him. 

Tim let his head hit the mattress, his back arch as he breathed out, "You're _in_ me."

Damian's mouth caught his own for an instant, releasing it to let his words ghost over them. "I am. _Finally_."

"You... you _wanted_ this?" Tim gasped as Damian shifted them, urged him to tighten his thighs around him as he began to move. 

"I would think," Damian's breath hitched and he groaned, his thrusts growing faster, "that would be _obvious_."

Tim released a laugh into the air, hips bucking up from the bed to meet Damian's thrusts, moaning as Damian's hands came down to help him, to urge him until he was actively fucking himself on Damian's length. His entire body lit up with pleasure as he found something like the proper angle, as he _rode_ Damian like nothing else mattered. 

Damian's mouth ghosted over his neck, along his Adam's apple and Tim reached to wrap one hand around himself. He was right there, dangling on the edge, so ready to fall over into the waiting abyss on the other side. The thought struck him that he was there with _Damian_ and he shuddered as he arched up hard. Damian's thrusts grew harder, quicker, and Tim _knew_ he was aiming to get them both off at least close to one another. His hand slowed, dragging it out, and he whined louder, breathing out, "I _need_... Dami, I-"

Damian's grip tightened and the bed protested as he very clearly _lost control_. Everything snapped between them and all Tim could do was _feel_. He could feel how Damian was filling him, could see the pleasure painted on his features, and then he was _free_. His body jerked and he distantly heard Damian gasp as he started to cum, splattering thick spurts of it up along his own abdomen as his hand kept moving frantically.

Tim heard his name, heard the _mantra_ that was Damian repeating it, again and again and then the throb of his cock buried deep inside of him, the _feeling_ of Damian cumming for him, because of him. 

Tim held himself for as long as he could before sort of collapsing onto the bed, Damian gathering him close, rolling them onto their sides as he pulled free of him. Distantly, he heard the sound of Damian cleaning up after them, though he didn't untangle their legs, didn't pull away to do it. 

Shakily, Tim reached for the bedspread, tugging it up over them and curling himself up against Damian's chest, leaning up to capture his mouth, sharing languid kiss after kiss with him until he earned himself a little nip for his efforts. 

His entire body still buzzed with everything and he knew they'd have to _talk_ , that they'd have to figure out what this was at the very least, but he didn't dread it like he normally would have. It didn't leave him with a sick feeling in his gut and that alone made him happier than he could possibly have explained. But that was all _eventually_ and this was right now and _that_ was all he wanted to focus on. The feeling of Damian's warmth around him, of how pleasured his body was, of the humming vibration of endorphins still skittering along his very being - and he knew _this_ was what bliss felt like.


End file.
